


You Are Ours (We Are Each Other’s)

by Jammit_Sammy



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Commission fic, Iron Dad, M/M, Panic Attacks, Tony Has Issues, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, but we love him, magic dad, spider son, they love eachother, trigger warning: panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 00:13:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15919068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jammit_Sammy/pseuds/Jammit_Sammy
Summary: Tony Stark has a panic attack while his husband is away, and his son Peter is the only one home.





	You Are Ours (We Are Each Other’s)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Riverthunder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riverthunder/gifts).



> This is a commissioned fic for the loml. If you’d like to commission me, they’re open.

The workshop was not a good place for anything other than working. The workshop was especially not a good place for having panic attacks. There were too many sharp objects, loose materials, and hot surfaces to be around when in the throes of an uncontrollable type of physical reaction. Tony Stark never did do things the way they should be done, though.

What made everything worse, was that Tony should have seen it coming. But, hindsight is twenty-twenty and all that.

It had started early in the day, a sharp pain inside his rib cage that pulsed and pierced every time he breathed. That wasn’t uncommon, especially after the arc reactor and its related traumas. Sometimes when you had shrapnel invade your chest, a foreign objected forced into an unnatural cavity in your sternum, and then have aforementioned invasive bodies removed in an experimental and dangerous surgery, you have trouble breathing. It’s a thing. So Tony could be excused for not realizing what was going on.

Anything can trigger a panic attack, when you have an anxiety disorder, and Tony definitely had one. Several, actually. With generalized anxiety, you occasionally just get hit with unreasonable panic. Which is what Tony suspects happened.

So, he had been working all day with a minor panic attack plaguing him. Not the smartest idea, but not his worst. The fact that he had already been several hours into it when an acute anxiety attack struck was, not ideal. The least ideal, actually. Ideality aside, the cause of the attack was small, almost insignificant. The heat from the welding iron coupled with a sharp pain in his chest, and he was right back in the desert, blown back by an incendiary device of his own making.

From there, the pain was constant. A sharp, persisting pain in his chest, migrating toward the center. Tony could feel the shrapnel tearing a path through his chest, desperately seeking his heart. Deadly shrapnel intent on stealing away from him the last breaths he had. It was surely seeking to wipe him form the Earth, for good this time. Tony Stark would no longer be able to cause people pain.

Through the haze, Tony vaguely registered his grip loosening and the sound of a metallic clang. The soldering iron, some part of his brain thought. The sound just brought him into another scene, quick shift like in the movies, and if Tony weren’t so utterly terrified and in pain, he may have been able to recognize his mind for the cinematic genius that it was. Because now it was playing the arc reactor’s original insertion surgery in vivid color as the engineer fought for breath that wasn’t there. He was going to die. He was back in the cave and this time he was going to die. This time he had a family he was leaving behind. Pete and Stephen, would they miss him?

Spiraling out of control, his thoughts pushed him further and further into a state of hysteria, unable to comprehend his surroundings. All that existed was pain and overwhelming loss. He called out for his son, with a voice raw from heat and dehydration. The call of a dying man to his last salvation, the cry of a father to his lost son. But Peter wasn’t lost, it was Tony who was. Dying again in this desert. Alone this time, and almost certainly deserved.

FRIDAY, interpreting Tony’s call for Peter as a cry for help, summoned the teen to the lab. He found Tony on the floor, clawing bloody gouges into the skin of his chest, and wondered why FRIDAY hadn’t called him earlier, at the first sign of distress. Likely one of Tony’s dumb protocols that JARVIS would have known how to override or get around, but FRIDAY was still learning. What mattered, was that Peter was informed eventually and that he was were now.

Touching Tony gently, Peter began speaking. “Hey Iron Dad. Daddio. Father o’ Mine. It’s me, Pete. Youre in your lab. You’re okay.”

Tony didn’t seem to hear him though, and Peter had no clue what to do.

“FRIDAY, call Papa.”

“Calling Dr. Steven Strange,” FRIDAY responded and the speakers in the lab let out a soft ringing.

Stephen picked up on the second ring, and Peter could have cried with relief.

As he was wont to do when nervous, Peter began babbling at a quick pace. “Hey Dr. Dad, how’s Monaco? Good I hope.  Things here are… not so good. Dad is here with me actually. Well, here in a physical sense. Mentally he’s somewhere else. I think. Maybe the cave? I dunno Papa but he’s really scaring me and I don’t know what to do and usually you handle it when dad is like this so I thought-“

“Peter. Calm down. Having you both in a panic won’t do any good,” Stephen’s strong, soothing voice caused Peter to let out some of his tension on his next exhale. “Are you okay Peter?”

“As okay as I can be. He’s scratching at where the arc reactor was, Papa.”

Stephen sighed, and a rasping sound came over the phone. Peter imagined he was running a hand over his face like he tended to do in stressful situations.

“I want you to go over to him and hug him Pete, as tight as you can and try to keep him from scratching himself any further. Tell me once you’ve done that.”

Peter cautiously approached his father, kneeling next to him and wrapping slim arms around him. Tony barely reacted, all he did was flinch. When Peter went to grab his hands, Tony struggled weakly for a moment before closing his hands into white knuckled fists.

Letting out a shaky exhale, Peter nodded then said, “Okay Papa. He still seems pretty far under. But he’s letting me hold him.”

“Wonderful,” Stephen cooed. “You’re so brave Peter, helping your dad like this. I know it can be hard, and know we would never ask you to do this. You wouldn’t be doing it now if there were any other options.” After a short pause, there was a shift in tone when Stephen spoke next. “Darling, I need you to listen. You’re in the lab with Peter. Your son. He loves you so much. Don’t you Peter?”

“God, Dad. I love you so much. You’ve gotta know that. You’re like, the bet science dad ever.” By the end of the sentence, Peter was getting a bit choked up. His dad had to know how much they loved him. He just had to.

They must have been getting through, because half way through Peter’s declaration, Tony turned his face, with its unseeing eyes, toward his son.

“See. And I love you. You stole my heart Anthony Edward Stark. Everything about you makes me fall deeper in love every day. For example, I love how you get out of our bed every morning, in our tower. How you make coffee in our ridiculously large kitchen and then give it to our son. Even though I insist he should not be drinking it. I love the attention you put into our dates, and our family outings.”

As Stephen spoke, Tony seemed to become more and more focused, anchoring himself in the present through Stephen’s words and his son’s arms around him.

“And most of all, Tony, I love that on our wedding day, you wanted everything to be so perfect that you turned into the ultimate bridezilla. And Pepper had to send our child in, with nothing but his shirt tails and dress socks on, to remind you that everything was going to be okay. That our big day was going to be perfect.”

By the end of Stephen’s spiel, Tony was coming out of his panic attack. While his heart still beat rapidly, and his breathing was shallow and quick, he knew where he was. Who he was. And most importantly, who he belonged to.

“Say it with me Tony,” Stephen prompted.

Tony took a deep breath and, at the same time as his son and husband, said, “You are ours. We are each other’s.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come see me on tumblr @goldenageofespionage


End file.
